Santo Stefano di Sessanio

Have you dreamed of publishing those family stories that might otherwise be lost in the future? What about those travel experiences you always wanted to put to paper, or those food memories from childhood? Now, how many times have you told friends to go for it, using the phrase “You only live once”?

Well, how about following your own dream for one week while learning how to polish your prose, eating fabulous food and living in a magical village in an unspoiled region of Italy?

It’s a village where road signs might have distances between towns measured in the time it takes to ride a horse.

It’s a village that has quiet, secret corners and small treasures waiting to be discovered.

Why not do yourself a favor and sign up for “Italy, In Other Words,” a memoir writing workshop? It takes place from June 15 to June 21st, 2014 and is held in Santo Stefano di Sessanio, a medieval village in the Gran Sasso National Park. Located in the region of Abruzzo, Santo Stefano di Sessanio has been named one of Italy’s prettiest towns, or “I borghi più belli d’Italia.” You’ll stay in Sextantio, a unique hotel with rooms dispersed throughout the town. Yours might be warmed by this rustic fireplace (but don’t worry – you’ll have modern Phillip Starck bathroom fixtures):

This is the view from one of the rooms:

The wild poppies and mustard should be in bloom when we’re there in mid-June.

Kathryn Abajian, college professor, author, and writing teacher, will lead the writing workshop, and she is gifting at elevating pedestrian words to poetry.

You’ll get plenty of daily, helpful feedback from the other participants in the workshop too.

I’ll be your cultural guide, taking you on nearby excursions. Some of the places you’re likely to visit are Rocca Calascio, a mountaintop fortress dating back to the 10th century.

We’ll pass by the church of Santa Maria della Pietà, built to commemorate what legend says was a victory of the locals over a gang of bandits.

We’ll walk along ancient sheep trails where you might even meet a modern day shepherd:

It’s not unusual to have to stop along the road for a sheep crossing.

The bedspread in your hotel room is likely to be hand woven by women from the local area, and you’ll see a demonstration on a centuries-old loom:

We’ll take an excursion to see how pecorino canestrato (sheep’s milk cheese) is made – .

And how maccheroni alla chitarra is made – an Abruzzo specialty.

And you’ll have plenty of opportunity to eat it at dinner.

But before dinner, have a seat in the cantina with your fellow students and enjoy a glass of wine with some cheese and locally made sausages.

At dinner, take the opportunity to savor conversation and delicious food.

Like these affettati (sliced, cured meats):

or ravioli with gorgonzola and walnuts:

Or arrosticini – succulent skewers of grilled lamb.

Get your feet tapping at the finale concert with DisCanto and their fabulous Abruzzese folk music:

You don’t have to be an experienced writer to sign up. You just have to have the desire to improve your writing. Although we’ve had participants who were accomplished, published writers, we’ve also had homemakers, a postal worker and an artist in past years too.

Want more information? Check out all the details here on the Italy, In Other Words website. You’ll find contact information to register. Hope to see you there in June. It’s a week that will stay with you forever.

Maccheroni alla chitarra is a typical Abruzzese pasta made with an egg dough and an implement called a “chitarra,” the same word used for the musical instrument, the guitar. It’s a multi-stringed rectangular wooden implement with metal wires across the top.

Before the invention of the chitarra in the mid-19th century, the same shape was achieved by cutting the pasta with a shoemaker’s hammer called a rintrocilo. In some places in Abruzzo, the rintrocilo is still used, although now it’s made expressly for pasta, not for shoes, and it looks like a grooved rolling pin. Centuries ago, the rintrocilo was made of iron, but today it’s made out of soft wood like beech.

Liliana made the dough with flour and eggs and rolled it out in rectangles, using a short rolling pin, in preparation for running it across the top of the chitarra. The pasta emerges at the bottom in long strands that are square shaped. She also demonstrated how she uses a large rolling pin for cutting tagliatelle or making ravioli. When she finishes rolling it out, the sheet of pasta covers nearly the whole table.

For the tagliatelle, after making the dough, she holds the opposite edges of finished sheet with her hands and rolls each side toward the center. It looks something like a jelly roll with a slit in the middle. She then slices it, lifts it from the center using a long knife as a guide and it unfurls into separate strands.

Liliana favors orange clogs, just like the well-known American chef Mario Batali.

Here are Liliana and her husband Carmelio, each with a different size rolling pin, or mattarello. Their son Silvan, whom I introduced you to on my last blog post featuring lentil salad, is a lentil grower and owner of a new bar in town called “Il Ristoro degli Elfi.”

That night at dinner, we ate Liliana’s maccheroni alla chitarra, plus a few other dishes she made, including ravioli with mushroom sauce.

And gnocchi too.

The meal started with a platter of homemade affettati (sliced cold meats) and a spicy eggplant and hot pepper spread.

Here’s a video of Liliana making pasta for our group. Take a look at a real expert making the dough.

And check out her technique in rolling out the dough:

Now for the giveaway. Wouldn’t you love to own one of those wooden implements to make your own maccheroni alla chitarra at home? I’m giving one away so you can try it yourself.

All you have to do is leave a comment stating your favorite pasta dish and sauce. Please don’t leave your comment in my email – you need to leave it on the blog to be eligible. You don’t need to have a blog, but I need some way to contact you if your name is chosen (by random number generator), so leave an email or home address please.

Saute the onions and garlic in 1 1/2 T. olive oil, then add the lamb and brown. Add the wine, tomatoes, bay leaf, marjoram and hot pepper flakes and lower the heat. Add salt and freshly ground pepper to taste. Let the sauce cook while you make the pasta. After the sauce cooks about an hour, saute the peppers in the remaining olive oil. Add salt and pepper to taste.
Cook the pasta in salted water, drain and toss with the peppers, then with the lamb ragu. Serve garnished with grated pecorino cheese.

Maybe you’ve had enough plain old lettuce and tomato salad by this time of year and you’re ready for something a little different. This salad of lentils from Santo Stefano di Sessanio, tossed with artichoke hearts, roasted red peppers and other ingredients will awaken your taste buds and keep you healthy too since lentils are high in fiber and a good source of protein and minerals.

Lentils from Santo Stefano are just about the finest you’ll find anywhere. They’re known for their small size, earthy flavor and tender outer husk. Because of their tiny size and extremely thin outer coating, they don’t need any special soaking and have a shorter cooking time.

They grow on land that’s within Abruzzo’s Gran Sasso National Park, at altitudes that can reach as high as 1600 meters (higher than 5,000 feet.) The cultivation of lentils in this area has been documented by monks as far back as the year 998 A.D.

Santo Stefano provides the ideal climate for growing lentils – cold, long winters and a short, brisk springtime. Lentils love the predominantly limestone soil of the area and don’t need any fertilization so they’re ideally suited for the poor terrain of the mountains. They’re harvested between the end of July and the end of August and the town holds a festival the first weekend of September to celebrate the legume. It can take as long as 15 days to bring in the harvest, which is almost always done manually. That’s mainly because the lentils, which must be separated from their pods, are so tiny, and there’s a loss of 30 percent to 40 percent with mechanical harvesting. But it’s also difficult to get equipment into some of the growing areas. The photo below shows the lentils just released from their dried pod.

Most of the lentil growers in Santo Stefano are older retired people who cultivate them strictly for family use. That means each year fewer and fewer are available commercially, and they’re impossible to find in the U.S. Even in Italy, they’re not readily available outside of Abruzzo. To help stem the sale of lentils falsely claiming to be from Santo Stefano, the local Slow Food organization, or presidium, requires identification of the grower to be on the label. Below is a photo of Silvan Fulgensi, among the younger growers, and a member of the presidium, shown holding a sifter used to shake the lentils from their outer pods. Silvan and his wife Anna were just putting the finishing touches on a new bar in town called Il Ristoro Degli Elfi, so if you do visit Santo Stefano, stop in, have a drink and a bite to eat.

Since you’ll be hard pressed to find lentils from Santo Stefano di Sessanio (unless you’re going to be in Abruzzo), try using Puy lentils from France, found at most gourmet food stores, as a substitute in the recipe below.

1 cup lentils – preferably from Santo Stefano di Sessanio

water to cover

1 bay leaf

Place the lentils and the bay leaf in a pot and cover with water to an inch above the lentils. Bring the water to a boil and simmer in a covered pot, for 20 minutes. Drain, remove the bay leaf and let cool to room temperature, then add the other ingredients.

Add:

1/2 cup canned artichoke hearts, cut up into small pieces

1/2 cup roasted red peppers, diced

1/4 cup red onion, diced

1/4 cup jarred green pepperoncini, minced

1/4 cup minced parsley

salt, pepper to taste

Add the above ingredients to the lentils and mix with the dressing. Serve over a bed of lettuce and garnish with tomatoes.

Santo Stefano di Sessanio is a town in Abruzzo that beckons with a quiet beauty. It doesn’t scream to be noticed, but its austere, centuries-old architecture and setting in the Gran Sasso National Park is a welcome balm to the visitor jaded with tourist traps and rushed itineraries. It’s a place to savor a slower pace, a quieter time and to honor traditions of the past. I’ve written about it here and here, and went back six weeks ago to help co-teach the Italy, In Other Words writing workshop with Kathryn Abajian. This year, I was just as captivated as ever by this mysterious, enchanting village. I can’t think of a place better suited for a week of writing, and I’m sure the other writers on this year’s trip would agree. Nature lovers, history lovers and anyone who values the work and world of cultures who came before us would find welcome respite here too, away from the frenzy of Rome, an hour and a half to the west.

It wouldn’t be so captivating a place were it not for one Daniele Kihlgren, who in 1999, happened to be riding past the village on his motorcycle, when he was mesmerized by Santo Stefano di Sessanio.

Daniele Kihlgren and his omnipresent bulldog

Like many rural villages in Southern Italy, young people were fleeing to the larger cities, leaving behind empty homes and a sagging economy that was destined to become worse. The population had dwindled to about 100 at the time, from about 3,000 in the 16th century when Santo Stefano di Sessanio was a thriving way station on the wool trade route. Kihlgren, whose mother is Swedish and father Italian, decided to do something about it. Fortunately he had the means to fulfill his vision, since his family had made a fortune in the cement industry. He bought up much of the uninhabited buildings, and set about creating Sextantio, an albergo diffuso.

An albergo diffuso, or “diffused hotel” is one with rooms scattered in various buildings throughout the town. The unique difference is that Kihlgren didn’t want to transform Santo Stefano into a “theme park,” but wanted it to be “authentic and real,” maintaining the integrity of time-honored traditions and materials, while providing comfort to hotel guests. “We didn’t want to erase the traces of people who lived here,” said Kihlgren, who has completed a similar project in Matera and also plans to renovate nine other towns he bought. The walls look just as they did centuries ago, the bedspreads are woven by the local women, but modern amenities are sprinkled here and there too – note the headboard photographic mural combining old and new.

Young children can be accommodated too, with small beds like this one, of handmade wrought iron:

Bathrooms are equipped with uber-modern fixtures, such as tubs by Phillip Starck.

The sinks are equally sleek, a counterpoint to the wooden towel rack and tin trash bucket.

Bring your own soap if you must, because the hotel provides only these artisanal products in the shower area, in glass bottles on wooden shelves. No aluminum, no plastic anywhere.

In some buildings, hotel rooms have a common space shared by several hotel guests.

The hotel also provides guests with a bottle of home-made liqueur, something typical of the region such as this rosa canina, ratafia, or saffron-flavored liqueur. Hand-woven linens serve as placemat.

Sadly, in April 2009, three years after the hotel opened, a devastating earthquake struck the Abruzzo region. Santo Stefano was luckier than many places that were totally destroyed, like Onna, but it still suffered some damage, including the collapse of its iconic tower (seen in scaffolding) that hails back to the days when the Medici family controlled the town. The hotel’s buildings, however, remained intact, thanks to reinforcement of the buildings during the renovation.

Even though the tower and parts of the town remain in scaffolding, Santo Stefano is still a beguiling place — with graceful arches and floral sculptural detailing evocative of the Renaissance:

Its beauty is due partly to the Medici family, whose coat of arms is still visible on a wall in town:

But some of the enchantment comes from the locals who plant flowers in the town’s little picturesque nooks:

You’ll find courtyards tucked away in exquisite solitude:

And mysterious arched passageways:

And public piazzas too, where locals gather for a bit of fun:

The hotel’s restaurant beckons with a candlelit entrance:

Views of majestic peaks of the Gran Sasso mountains and far-off villages like Castelvecchio also lure the visitor to stay a while. “The real value of this place is the mutual and changed relationship between the historic village and landscape around it,” Kihlgren said. “And if you’re going to keep this relationship for the next generation, I think we are doing something very important.”

While we were in Santo Stefano this year, a Swedish TV crew filmed Daniele Kihlgren and some members of our writing workshop talking about the town. If you have a few minutes to listen and watch, you too, may become spellbound by this hidden gem called Santo Stefano di Sessanio. Don’t worry, even though the beginning is in Swedish, it segues to nearly all English after the first 40 seconds.

My friend Helen, along with Sammy Dunham, of Life in Abruzzo, is hosting a blogging conference in Santo Stefano this September called “Hands On L’Aquila.” Proceeds help the people and region of Abruzzo. You can find out more about it here.

….How could I not still be longing to be back in this beautiful country and the people I spent time with in the last few weeks? Once I’m caught up with things on the home front, be on the lookout for future posts about recipes, sights and sounds I encountered during the last few weeks — and a giveaway too. Stay tuned ….

Doesn’t this look like a lovely pastoral scene — a picturesque Italian village, people dressed in traditional costumes, dancers swaying as musicians play in the background, and a picnic spread on the grass? You’d think it’s a painting, and it is — sort of. But it’s not hanging on the wall of any museum. It’s a mural ON a wall along Passyunk Street in Philadelphia. It also happens to depict Santo Stefano di Sessanio – the village where I’ll be co-teaching a writing workshop with Kathryn Abajian called “Italy, In Other Words.”

I was flabbergasted when I saw it for the first time last week, right next to a restaurant called “Le Virtu” where I went to hear a group of musicians from Abruzzo called “DisCanto.” They had performed in Princeton years ago at the Italian cultural institute I’m involved with, and I didn’t want to miss the chance to hear these talented musicians a second time. Drinks and munchies would be served and I was eager to try some of the restaurant’s food, focusing on the cuisine of Abruzzo.

I met up with Helen Free, who came up from Washington, D.C. for the evening. I’ll be taking over her role this year in the Italy, In Other Words workshop, leaving her the time to organize a new blogging workshop in Santo Stefano for later in the year – Hands on L’Aquila.

Many of the walls at the restaurant are decorated in ceramics made in the town of Castelli, one of the excursions planned during the writing workshop in Italy.

The evening started out with wine and small bites of delectable offerings, including succulent lamb spiedini, and these outrageously delicious stuffed olives.

The star of the show however, (food-wise) was the roast suckling pig, prepared by Chef Joe Cicala, whose culinary talents have been honed in restaurants in Salerno, Italy; Washington, D.C. and New York City (including Del Posto, one of my favorites).

Everyone was salivating at the first smack of the knife, when the crackling skin gave way to the tender, well-seasoned meat inside, infused with rosemary and sage.

The authentic regional food set the stage for the talented musicians, who alternated among a myriad of instruments, including guitar, cello, mandolin, clarinet, accordion, violin and bagpipes. Yes, that’s right — bagpipes — or zampogne — as they’re called in Italian. Scotland has nothing on Italy when it comes to bagpipes. Southern Italy has a long tradition of bagpipe music, hailing back to shepherds who were away from their families tending their flocks for long periods of time. They would descend from the mountains at Christmas time, surrounded by their sheep as they played the instruments they made using available materials. The well-known Italian Christmas carol “Tu Scendi Dalle Stelle” (You came down from the stars) is traditionally accompanied by bagpipes.

Members of DisCanto in the photo below are, Sara Ciancone on the cello, Michele Avolio on guitar, Antonello Di Matteo on clarinet and Domenico Mancini on violin.

Here’s a video of the group that night, performing “La Luna Si Fermo'” (The moon stopped.)

It was a fun-filled night of great music, delicious food, renewing old friendships and making new ones.

Among the new ones were Francis Cratil (below) and his wife, Catherine Lee, owners of Le Virtu who were instrumental in bringing DisCanto to the U.S.

We ate a limited sampling of Le Virtu’s food, but it was enough for me to know that I want to go back again and again to try everything on the menu. The flavors were so evocative of real Abruzzese cooking, even though some of the dishes take a more modern twist, but always using authentic ingredients from the region, like saffron from Navelli, and lentils from Santo Stefano, for example.

On the way out, the mural looked even more magical, as decorative street lights provided drama.

And if you zoom in on the mural, take a good look at who’s playing the ciaramella, that wooden instrument that looks like a recorder (but is really related to the oboe). It’s a member of Discanto – Michele – whom the artist used as a model.

The musicians have gone back to Italy, but you can still feel the Abruzzo vibe on Passyunk Ave at Le Virtu. If you can’t get to Philly though, Francis was kind enough to send me a recipe – coniglio in porchetta — or rabbit rolled and cooked in the style of a porchetta. So now you can have a little bit of Abruzzo and Le Virtu in your home too.

You haven’t seen me post any cookies, cakes or pastries on the blog for a long time and there’s a reason for that. Desserts really are my weakness so I thought I might give them up for Lent this year. The good news is that I succeeded in not succumbing during the entire 40 days. The bad news is that I compensated with far too much pizza, pasta and panini, including those similar to the photo above, made with homemade focaccia. I’m rethinking this whole idea of renouncing something for Lent and next year will skip it. Instead, I think I’ll spend more time in reflection, meditation and prayer – something I never seem to find time for on a daily basis, but that I think would be more meaningful than giving up a portion of tiramisu and gorging on other foods instead.

So onto the focaccia – a simple dough that’s easily made, but there’s an important word for you to learn first — temperature. Yes, temperature of the water is key. Too cold and the yeast takes forever to do its thing. Too hot, and you’ve killed the yeast. So grab a thermometer and take the temperature of the water. It should be between 105 and 110 degrees. Proceed from there and mix all the ingredients, then knead the dough, roll into a ball, and place in an oiled bowl. Cover and wait a couple of hours.

The yeast will work its magic and it will double in size.

Cut it in half and spread half of it in a cast iron skillet. Push down with your fingers and “dimple” the dough, then sprinkle with coarse salt and chopped rosemary.

Here’s what it looks like when it comes out. Leave it in the oven longer if you like it more golden.

You could cut it up and serve it as bread with a meal, or you could split it and make panini instead.

Fill the focaccia with whatever floats your boat. This one’s filled with prosciutto, burrata cheese and arugula fresh from my garden, a return crop from last year.

This one’s filled with those wild greens I gathered recently, as well as melted mozzarella cheese (place the filled focaccia in the oven for a few minutes to melt the cheese).

**********************************************************************************Join me and Kathryn Abajian in Santo Stefano di Sessanio, Italy to savor the slow life, to start or refine your memoir or other writing and explore a lesser-known part of Italy. Only a couple of spots left for this week in an unspoiled village amid stimulating company, great food each day and excursions to interesting places nearby. Life is short – go for it. It’s really as good as it sounds, so don’t dally – check out “Italy in Other Words.”

Dissolve the yeast in about 1/4 cup water and add a tsp. of sugar to help get it started. The temperature of the water is very important. I use a meat thermometer to get the right temperature. Too cold and it takes forever for the dough to rise. Too hot and you kill the yeast.
After the yeast has sat in the small bit of water and sugar, it should start to bubble up in about five minutes.
Mix it with the flour, the rest of the water and the salt. You can use a food processor or just mix it by hand in a bowl until it’s all blended. Add more flour or water if needed. Knead for about five minutes, then place in a greased bowl and cover it with a dish towel, plastic wrap or a large plate. Let it rise in a warm place until doubled. This could take a couple of hours.

Punch down the dough and split it in half. Spread out half in a cast iron skillet if you have one. If not, just make a free-form circle of dough by rolling and stretching.

Let it sit for about five minutes in the pan, then use your fingers to dimple the top. Drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle with coarse salt, then some minced rosemary.

Bake in a preheated 500 degree oven for about 15 minutes. Check to see the bottom is browned and if not, take it out of the pan and place directly on your oven rack. Repeat with the other half of the dough once the cast iron skillet is cool enough to handle.

I don’t normally start my day eating tarts filled with freshly made ricotta cheese and topped with amaretti cookies. My weekday breakfast also doesn’t typically include a crostata made with fruit jams, marble cake, apple cake or any other number of sweet treats either.

I’m usually not lucky enough to have Emanuele asking me every morning if I’d like to have a freshly made frittata either.

But for one week in June I was. These were all part of the daily breakfasts served in a cavernous room called the “cantinone” (big cellar) that could have doubled as a backdrop for a movie set in the Middle Ages.

It’s also where I popped in occasionally before dinner for a glass of Montepulciano D’Abruzzo and some munchies.

I wasn’t alone during the week. I was one of a group of five writers from California, New York, New Jersey and Puerto Rico taking part in a workshop in Santo Stefano di Sessanio called “Italy In Other Words.” The group was led by Kathryn Abajian and Helen Free, two gifted teachers who helped us find our writing voice and discover the treasures and traditions of Abruzzo.

Kathryn conducted the writing classes each day, focusing on first person writing. Although I had worked as a journalist for decades, and write a food blog now, memoir writing is an entirely different genre and I had a lot to learn. Kathryn gave me the tools and the kick start I needed to get me moving in the right direction, in a teaching style that was both firm and generous at the same time. Sadly, she lives on the opposite coast from me. Otherwise, I’d be signing up for any classes she teaches. Listening to the other women’s own stories and receiving their feedback was an invaluable part of the week as well.

Top row, Julie and Lori and Cynthia. Seated, Linda, Kathryn and Diane

Helen instructed the group on Abruzzese traditions that link us with our past, regardless of nationality.
We read the words of Italian writers such as Ignazio Silone, who wrote about the long-ago struggles of peasants in Abruzzo, struggles that are still relevant around the world today. We walked in the footsteps of shepherds who led their flocks in a twice-yearly migration over hundreds of miles of rocky, mountainous paths in search of warmer climes, a custom known as “transumanza.”

Near the Gran Sasso mountains we ran for shelter as the rain fell, while the cow nearby didn’t budge:

We returned on a sunnier day to climb higher on the path through the town of Calascio.

Lori, Diane, Juli, Linda, Helen and Cynthia

Until we reached the ruins of a fortress built in the 10th century, once owned by the Medici family.

Nearby in isolation overlooking the mountains stands an octagonal church erected between the 16th and 17th centuries, on a site where legend has it, locals fought and won a skirmish with brigands.

Santa Maria della Pieta

We also had time to think, in a place with few tourists, and no television or telephones in our rooms. We had time to roam the village and reflect on its quiet beauty and on our purpose for being there.

Time to explore the mysterious narrow streets and pathways.

Time to wonder who lived in houses like these:

And wonder how long ago someone rode this old motorcycle.

Even time to let Federica, who lives in the village, have a go at painting with my travel watercolor set.

We had time to walk below the town where poppies bloomed beside a church boarded up since the 2009 earthquake:

Where fields of yellow mustard greens swayed in the wind beside stalks of wheat and more poppies.

Where road signs indicated the distance it took to ride between towns on horseback:

We had time to transfix our gaze on the broad, open views to other hill towns in the distance.

Naturally, we had time to eat too – from restaurants where the atmosphere was funky-

and the food traditional like these gnocchi:

To restaurants that were more formal –

And that served modern interpretations of food, like these veal cheeks and potatoes with citrus flavors:

“Italy, In Other Words,” gave us time to slow down, to appreciate all the beautiful sights, sounds and tastes around us, and to write about what was important to us. Thank you to Helen and Kathryn, and to all the friendly townspeople of Santo Stefano and to the employees of Sextantio, the hotel where we lodged, including Gabriella, who offered me the recipe for the luscious torta shown at the top of this post.

Blend the flour, sugar and baking powder together in a bowl. Add the softened butter by hand or put everything in a food processor until it forms a ball. Roll out and place into a buttered 10 to 12-inch baking dish or tart pan.

For the filling:

Bring the milk to a boil with the lemon peel. Meanwhile, beat together the eggs, sugar and flour. Slowly add the mixture to the hot milk, stirring together for two or three minutes until it is thick and amalgamated. Let it cool slightly, then add the ricotta, using as little or as much as you like. Crumble the amaretti cookies on top. Bake at 350 degrees for 25 minutes

This is the view from my bedroom window. Not the one in Princeton, New Jersey, but in Italy, at least for the first week of my trip. I’ll bet you didn’t even miss me, since I set the blog to automatically publish new posts while I was away. For the last three weeks, I’ve been traveling from Abruzzo to the Piedmont region with a few stops along the way to visit friends and relatives, relive old memories and make some new ones too.

I’ve returned with lots of inspiration for writing, for recipes and for great places to visit. One of them is Santo Stefano di Sessanio, a charming medieval village in the region of Abruzzo, located about two hours east of Rome at the edge of the Gran Sasso national park, home to the eponymous mountain range.

The town has only about 180 permanent residents, and like many small villages in Italy, most of its young people left to take jobs in other, more urban places. At one point in recent years, its population had diminished to only 70 people. To the rescue came Daniele Kihlgren, a wealthy man whose Italian mother’s family made its fortune in the cement industry. Kihlgren bought many of the town’s buildings and set about restoring them and creating an “albergo diffuso,” or “diffused hotel” called Sextantio. Sadly, the crenellated tower that dominated the skyline crumbled during the 2009 earthquake in Abruzzo, while a metal scaffolding now defines its outline.

Here’s what the tower used to look like before it succumbed to nature’s forces.

Despite the scaffolding in some parts of the town, Santo Stefano di Sessanio remains a beguiling village and has been named one of Italy’s prettiest villages – “I Borghi Piu’ Belli D’Italia.” A walk down its cobbled streets or into one of its restaurants is enough to charm anyone.

In an albergo diffuso, rooms are scattered throughout the town, unlike traditional hotels that have all rooms in one building. Here in Santo Stefano di Sessanio, Kihlgren was meticulous in maintaining the medieval character of the town, which means no plastic, no aluminum or other modern day materials sullying the rooms and common meeting places.

Here’s a look at my bedroom, for example. It’s ascetic in the way a monk’s cell might be, with centuries of layers of whitewashed walls instead of painted wallboard. Out of view is the huge stone fireplace and bathroom with modern fixtures, an exception to the more primitive furnishings. The bed is covered in a bedspread woven by the local women.

My sheets were made of handwoven linen, embroidered with the initials of someone I’ll never know.

Even the key that unlocked my door looked like it came from an antique shop.

The views of surrounding fields were mesmerizing too, swathed in yellow and red flowers from mustard greens and poppies.

And of course, you know I couldn’t omit some reference to food, especially since I ate some wonderful meals there, including fettucine with truffles –

really fresh truffles, that had just been gathered that day –

The town is known for its small lentils, so naturally I sampled them a couple of times.

Plus spaghetti alla chitarra (guitar), made by extending the pasta over a rectangular stringed implement and pressing on the dough with a rolling pin – a dish closely associated with Abruzzo.

I ate wonderful meat, vegetable and dessert dishes too, but I’ll save some of them for my next post. But I will show you what was offered when I arrived – a glass of prosecco, some breads, crackers and the freshest and creamiest ricotta I’ve ever tasted –

Followed by a lunch of pappa al pomodoro, barley risotto and asparagus soup – in other words, a warm, delicious welcome. And you’ve just been given some clues about what I was really doing there – all to be explained in my next post.

Until then, here’s a recipe for pappa al pomodoro. For those of unfamiliar with it, be warned, it’s not at all liquidy – it’s a very thick tomato soup – almost more of a bread pudding with tomatoes – perfect for when those red beauties start ripening in the garden. The recipe below is from Napa Valley’s Michael Chiarello, one of my favorite chefs.

In a 12-inch saute pan, heat the olive oil over a medium-high flame until hot but not smoking. Add the onion andgarlic and saute for a few minutes, until onion is translucent. Add a pinch of salt. Add the chopped tomatoes and their juices and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and let cook until the tomatoes begin to soften and break down, about 5 minutes.

Place the bread slices in a bowl and cover with 2 cups water. Tear the bread into rough pieces and add to tomato mixture. Add the remaining water from the bowl. Continue simmering until all the bread has absorbed as much liquid as possible, yielding a baby food-like consistency.

Stir in the basil. Season, to taste, with pepper. Add extra-virgin olive oil, if desired. Let the soup continue simmering for 10 more minutes, then serve immediately in warmed soup bowls. Garnish, to taste, with Parmigiano-Reggiano.

In my last life, I was a journalist in NYC, but left the rat race to live in Italy for a year. I created this blog upon my return to combine my interests of writing and photography with my love of food and travel. Read more about me here...

In my last life, I was a journalist in NYC, but left the rat race to live in Italy for a year. I created this blog upon my return to combine my interests of writing and photography with my love of food and travel. Read more about me here...